


Wicked Graces

by wittywords



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Sillyness, Slash, cullen is tricked into more wicked grace, it all ends cuddly, there is alcohol involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 08:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wittywords/pseuds/wittywords
Summary: Dorian needs to be protected from the bed bugs or so Varric claims. Cullen to the rescue.





	Wicked Graces

“I would like to dedicate this toast to the noble beasts, best men to friends or is it best friends like men… anyway, just the best Mabari puppies…” the gushing toast was interrupted by a sound hiccup from the speaker who having washed it down with a gulp of wine continued to praise the slobbery furballs, making them into heroes in a nonsensical story he made up on the spot out of the random story fragments heard over the course of his life.

In a sufficiently drunk Ferelden tavern, this may even have had success, the publisher in Varric estimated. 

“Are you sure it wouldn’t have been more merciful to get him naked again?” Cassandra inquired, but made to effort to interrupt the passionate speech. 

After trading in many favours Varric had finally talked the blond into another game of Wicked Grace on a condition that he would drink instead of disrobing. Since they were going to drink anyway, the commander agreed. Except he had forgotten how copious amount of alcohol never served to improve his already dismal card skills. 

With the stubbornness unmatched by the druffalos, the blond continued losing. Instead of falling like a rock under the table and snoring loudly in complete dignity until mid-afternoon, the hopelessly useless drunk candidate proved to be lively and resilient and relatively sturdy on his feet. He was laughing loudly and expressed tendency to hug everyone within arm’s reach. The shield and sword training complimented him with the physique to crack a few bear ribs in one of those bear hugs. 

Following his vivacious toast, which Andraste’s tits, everyone welcomed soundly and clapped at, Cullen insisted on dancing with the Inquisitor. Unbalanced as he was performing under the country song, while the steps were borrowed from a waltz, to his credit the blond not once trampled his partner’s toes, but fell over eight times in a comical endeavours to avoid doing so. 

He advanced onto reading in full voice the first chapter of Shields and Swords, skilfully imitating the character voices and wildly acting out their ventures. Cassandra had thoroughly enjoyed his performance even if she ardently denied it.

The show was crowned when Cullen insisted on Varric teaching him a salacious tavern song, the lewder the better. When the dwarf had initially approved of the request, he wasn’t aware what trap he had fallen into. While the blond wasn’t entirely tone deaf nor sabotaged with a nasty voice, he had dutifully been schooled into following the Chantry melodies incompatible with the free style. The x-Templar’s efforts to institute the patterns resulted in a traumatic sound mixture that resembled the yowling of a drunk cat stuck mid-heat in a dumpster. 

In addition, he was drunk enough to keep forgetting the words, but not drunk enough to miss that he was getting them all wrong and insisting on re-learning. Tricking the blond into thinking he got everything right to send him off to bed with a blessing was not working nor was Cullen running out of energy. Spooked by their singing lessons, the Wicked Grace players slowly began drifting off to their beds. 

“Listen Curly,” Varric interrupted at long last, unable to bare anymore of his self-inflicted torment. “As much as I adore your company, shouldn’t you be elsewhere? I do believe you were planning to see Dorian."

Luckily, the first name that drifted to mind sparked interest.

"Why was I planning to see Dorian?" Cullen rubbed his forehead like he was trying hard to assemble the correct memory of him wanting to do so, not that seeing Dorian for any reason wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Because he’s afraid to sleep alone at night.” 

“Why is he afraid?” The blond frowned. It was awfully selfish of him to have so much fun while poor Dorian was suffering. 

“It’s the bedbugs," Varric offered as convincingly as he was in selling his trashiest novels. No one was going to believe that crazy shit, but everyone always did. "These critters can’t pass a naked butt without sinking their pointy fangs into it.”

"Oh! Those villainous bedbugs!"

Armed with a new purpose, Cullen trotted off, in the process startling a serving girl who squeaked upon the bestowed hug and then looked after the crusading knight with a stupidly besotted look. 

“Yeah. Give him a good goodnight kiss too, for him to sleep better,” Varric called after the stumbling figure. Maybe then Dorian would forgive him. 

“Sorry Sparkler. It was either you or me,” he muttered. Maybe something useful was ought to come of it. As sorry as he was, the tricky dwarf wasn’t too sorry.

***************************************

Ahhhh… what a nice evening he was having. Dorian was stretched on his stomach across the luxurious bed. Strong coffee scent caressed his refined senses. The open book pages welcomed him with unveiled mysteries. Climbing across a dirty basement to discover a library half hidden by a crumbling wall and then spending weeks on the restorative efforts yielded rewards he was going to reap, comfortably tucked into his warm beautiful bed.

Dorian wrinkled his nose and pretended he didn’t hear a knock daring to interrupt his planned and well deserved rest except the obnoxious sound repeated itself three times more urgent and louder. 

“Come in,” he called, surrendering irritably since the sound began to echo in his temples. The invitation resulted in the peculiar jerking of the door handle. It got tugged, slapped and ruffled all the while remaining locked. Miffed and wandering if he forgot how he locked it, Dorian climbed off the bed. Wincing at the stone tiles sneaking in between the rugs to drench his soles with cold, he twisted the handle, not expecting an onslaught. 

A wiggling, heavy mass collapsed over the mage, bringing him and the unwelcome visitor onto the floor. Dorian’s fine derriere hardly appreciated meeting the bottom part of his quarters so intimately, while the offender did no more than entangle their limbs further by trying to free the mage from his weight. In his efforts, he was rubbing across rather personal areas. 

Magic surged through Dorian’s fingers hot and incensed and quite ready to summon the bones of an ancient bear buried somewhere under the castle walls two hundred years ago to come and drag the trespasser away. Except, he recognised the visitor in spite of being presented with his rear end or perhaps because of it since during the sunny days Dorian far too often indulged in letting the Inquisition Commander walk ahead of him across the narrow paths and still in repair battlements. 

“Cullen, whatever brings you to my door in an unholy hour when every reputable person should either be seeing their fifth dream or at least spending it respectably locked in their bedroom,” he drawled out, dragging the man by the scruff of his neck and shoulders the right way up.

This effort was rewarded with the head full of bouncing and out of place curls tilting towards him and brushing across his cheek. With grave effort, the mage wedged his palms in between their bodies and pushed the blond back. 

“I’ve come to rescue you!” Cullen announced not perturbed by the rejection like the entire castle security depended on guarding Dorian. A sound hiccup made him bounce on the mage's lap. There was a happy grin plastered all over his face that eclipsed hot Minrathos sun. Was he... drunk? The whiff of several mixed wines and other beverages left no doubt of that, but disbelief had to be palpable as the mage had previously witnessed only the mildest intoxication. In spite of his annoyance, Dorian’s lips twitched before he told them sternly to settle down.

“I’m highly flattered,” he expressed, shoving the blond off in order to regain his footing and then putting some strenuous exercise into helping the warrior obtain a semi-vertical position as well. Cullen’s hands in an effort to get upright were grabbing him in places that required imagination to reach. “I’ve been locked in this dreadful room the entire evening, wandering when not a shred sober knight would drop on me. Pray tell, what am I being saved from?”

A figurine perched on the edge clanked against the floor and shattered, cast off by Cullen’s elbow coming to brace against the dresser. Good riddance. Dorian hated anyway a souvenir imposed by the Inquisitor, smiling so sweetly it was a crime to refuse, after one of their adventures, the stench of which he preferred to forget. 

“From the bedbugs,” Cullen informed very seriously. The brewery he had emptied set the afore mentioned critters on the same level as evil dragons, red lyrium and Corypheus. “Varric says you’re afraid to sleep and I should kiss you better.”

“He did, did he…” the mage uttered evilly, already planning how to thank the meddling dwarf for this gift. 

Cullen hiccupped heftily again. His elbow slipped off the dresser sending him back to the floor where the blond began tugging his boot off. Dorian was going to disembowel Varric and ship him off as the potion ingredients to his distant homeland. Though, he was sure the meddlesome dwarf would derive benefit from that too, penning down more of his tacky novels and selling them to the squealing Orlesian elite during that journey.

“I dare presume you've been lured into another game of Wicked Grace.”

“I know not why I’ve been resisting so much,” the blond frowned, tugging at his fur coat with the slowly yielding success, “Skyhold brims with honourable people. The evening went so well.” 

While there wasn’t anything overly scandalous about removing his boots or the coat, the lousy drunk proceeded to fight with his shirt, gradually moving onto the more personal clothing articles. 

“I dare not ask, which plans are you manifesting now?” Dorian quipped when the blond began tugging off his pants. 

“Setting a trap for the bedbugs,” the commander explained, momentously examining his pants like he was scrutinising the war room map. “Since they can’t pass a naked butt and you are wearing pyjamas, I presume they would have to redirect their attack at me.”

"As grateful as I am from the bottom of my heart, let us not resort to such radical measures. Even I cannot accept such intimate sacrifice on my behalf." 

He was not going to take advantage and stare at the golden skin crossed by the silver scars, devour the broad shoulders and abdomen muscles flattening out into a taut stomach and the mark left by the waistband. The smallclothes joined the pants on the floor. In spite of partially shielding his eyes, Dorian got a glimpse how the blond wasn't falling short of his fantasies. 

Unabashed by his naked state, the warrior got onto his hands and knees. Maintaining a wobbling balance, he straightened his legs, deeming his rear end to be the trickiest to uplift and doing so first. The rest of the body followed in an abrupt motion that propelled him several steps across the room towards the bed where Cullen grabbed onto his host.

Do we now kiss and share our wedding night, the mage wanted to snark when the moist lips covered his mouth hungrily. Briefly, Dorian was robbed of breath. Cullen was kissing him deeply and thoroughly. On instinct and acting on long suppressed desire the mage reciprocated before his mind clicked into place and the inner alarm reminded of the strong tint of alcohol marring those perfect lips. The smell alone was enough to make someone perfectly sober drunk and singing or doing some other naughty things judging by the reaction this ridiculous kiss stirred in his groin.

As abruptly as he was hugged, Cullen released him. With an accomplished smile, the blond flopped backwards, instantly sinking into deep sleep. The long limbs scattered all over the bed, taking up all room. 

"This is where I sleep," Dorian said crossly.

His visitor mumbled something affirmative. His fingers twitched encountering a pillow. Pulling it under his cheek, the blond turned over presenting his shapely rear to the firelight. 

Bearing a long suffering sigh, Dorian collected a spare blanket from his closet. The silly drunk had fallen asleep atop of all the bedding. When he had envisioned Cullen in his bed, tucking a blanket around him securely wasn't exactly what Dorian had imagined he would have been doing. 

Assured no foot or bottom were sticking out to the mercy of the encroaching winter cold that crept into the rooms as soon as one lost vigilance and slept with dimmed firelight, Dorian settled into an armchair next to the bed and studied the warrior thoughtfully.

"What am I suppose to do? Guard your virtue?" the mage inquired, robbed silly of his bed and without even a blanket left over to cover himself.

Cullen snorfled what sounded like agreement and buried his nose in the wondrously soft sheets. 

No one who had the audacity to drool onto his favourite pillow had the right to look so beautiful. The stress lines were eased from the handsome face. Cullen looked divinely content. All he was missing, was a goodnight kiss dropped onto his cheek.

"Enjoy this while you can," Dorian muttered softly enough to cause no disturbance to his guest. He added another log into the fire and then curled up in the armchair to the best of his ability. "The hangover will come tomorrow."


End file.
